


In the Night Time

by Lordoflesamis



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Other, Sharing a Bed, first time sleeping together, jehan fidgets, they're so cute and weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9201491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lordoflesamis/pseuds/Lordoflesamis
Summary: Montparnasse thrives in the night. Jehan is also a night owl. Their relationship is casual at best. So why does Montparnasse feel the need to stay the night?





	

**Author's Note:**

> A thought i had about Montparnasse and Jehan's sleeping habits kind of evolved into this- I thought it could be quite cute and funny for their romantic expectations and views of each other to be turned on their heads but in a good way? err... just read it and let me know what you think! :)

It was not the first time Montparnasse had found himself in Jehan’s bed. No, they had spent many moments here; curled up together with a book and a cigarette respectively; sat cross-legged and reclining facing one another, Montparnasse relaying his day while his lover sighed and plaited their hair; or Montparnasse would sit on the edge of the bed, head tilted towards the light so that Jehan could properly inspect his wounds and decide on the severity of them. They had also, quite a few times, had sex in this bed, Montparnasse mused idly, running his hands through his hair.

He hadn’t meant to stay. He had even told Jehan that he wouldn’t, that he had business to attend to. He meant that most nights. But his partner had fallen asleep, strawberry-blonde hair half-braided, spread around them like a halo. Montparnasse wondered- only half-seriously for he knew the answer, deep down- why religious imagery only came to him in Jehan’s presence. He had never considered ending up in Jehan’s bed like this.

He had, however, spent some time trying to guess how Jehan spent his nights when Montparnasse wasn’t there. Like himself, Jehan loved the night. They loved the stars, and the shift to calm the world seemed to take on, even in central Paris. Montparnasse loved the night for different reasons, but that wasn’t important now. He had three theories on how Jehan spent their nights without him.

Number One: they were involved in some strange kind of cult which met in the darkness, something out of an Edgar Allen Poe tale. He was least convinced by this in general, but whenever he caught the eye of the mysterious skull on Jehan’s desk no other theory made sense. Montparnasse was dark, but he wasn’t real-human-skull-in-his-bedroom dark. He admired Jehan for that.

Number Two, and currently his favoured theory, was that Jehan spent a majority of the night sitting on the small balcony outside of his bedroom, with a cup of tea and a cigarette, looking into the sky or reading poetry. He had seen Jehan do this a few times, but Montparnasse wondered how Jehan fell asleep after this.

Number Three concerned this sleeping. Montparnasse had assumed that, when Jehan did sleep (for he knew it was for a short time) they slept as peacefully as Hans Zatka’s “Sleeping Beauty”. This theory was proven wrong in seconds, suddenly, when a small, freckled foot collided with Montparnasse’s shin. Hard.

Frowning, Montparnasse barely had time to recover from his thoughts when a skinny elbow made contact with his ribs. What the fuck?? He thought, scrambling away from his thrashing angel. Are they having a nightmare? He thought, standing on the side of the bed and watching the love of his life starfish himself out in the bed, little fingers grasping at the pillows and legs snatching the duvet between them. Montparnasse rolled his eyes, realising that this wasn’t some awful nightmare; the sneak was stealing the blanket. 

He had to be tactful. The last thing he wanted was to be kicked out of this rare, strange moment. Montparnasse lifted one of Jehan’s legs and withdrew the blanket, substituting the warmth with his own legs. Jehan let out a sigh, and suddenly their position was changed, thin limbs spread across Montparnasse’s chest, one hand slapping his face then grabbing at his shoulder. This was hardly the romantic experience he had imagined living- er, sleeping- with the ethereal being known as Jehan would be. And yet… Jehan’s mouth was open, a small patch of drool building on his chest. Their hair was in his face. Their limbs were hot and irritating in the night. 

Montparnasse had never been happier in his entire life. His eyes began to droop as Jehan wriggled their face into the crook of his neck, muttering nonsensical rhymes under their breath. It was usually difficult to fall asleep, even in his own small box of a flat, which was guarded and kept tucked away, for either fear of police or simply due to his need to be aware. But now there was nothing that seemed more desirable than to wrap his arms around Jehan’s waist and close his eyes. Who cares if he had to be found so vulnerable in the morning? He was beginning to think that waking up with Jehan in a soft, bright room was better than waking in the shadows. And the thought both terrified him and delighted him.


End file.
